


In the Aftermath

by stellarmeadow



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Episode Tag, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-25
Updated: 2011-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 22:41:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmeadow/pseuds/stellarmeadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny deals with Matt's actions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't let 1.18 go without resolving some things, and somehow they ended up in a fic. My first finished H50 fic - yay!

Danny buried his nose in Rachel's hair. The smell was comforting and familiar, remnants of the good things about the home he'd lost when he'd moved out here, before the world had apparently gone insane. He wanted that home back, just for a moment, Rachel and baby Grace, his family coming by to see them all the time, Matt....

He sniffed, pulling back. "I...uh...I need to tell Grace Matt's gone." Because he didn't know if he'd be able to once the shock wore off.

"She's asleep, Danny. It's after midnight."

"Right, it's late. Sorry." He hadn't realized just how long he'd been driving after he left the airfield.  "I'm sorry. I should go. Thanks for--"

"Danny." Rachel put her hand on his arm, warm and gentle, another reminder of the past. "You wouldn't wake her if you wanted to kiss her goodnight."

He had to press his lips together to stop himself from saying anything stupid and emotional. He nodded, swallowing the words. "I--thanks."

"Sure."

She let him in and closed the door, following behind  as he went straight for Grace's room. He stopped just inside the door, the sight of Grace sleeping so peacefully in the dim light of her pink princess lamp soothing the itch crawling under his skin. She was happy, tan and beautiful here, and he would never take that from her, no matter what it cost him, even at the cost of a brother he might have been able to save if he hadn't been 5,000 miles away.

He crossed over and knelt beside the bed, tucking the stuffed dolphin he'd given her more firmly under her arm before pulling the covers up to her shoulders. One hand smoothed her hair back so he could place a lingering kiss on her temple. Her hair smelled like shampoo and sand and the ocean, more familiar smells now, and yet they still left an ache inside somehow.

"Love you, Monkey," he whispered before he stood. She settled more deeply into the covers, her breathing deep and even, as he turned on his heel. Rachel smiled from the doorway before she turned to lead him back to the front door.

"Listen," he said, hand on the door. "Thank you for..." he waved his hand at Rachel and towards Grace's room, "understanding."

Rachel nodded. "I haven't forgotten the better parts of you, Daniel," she said, a hint of her usual edge creeping back into  her tone, but in a far friendlier manner than in the past. "Even if they're often hidden," she added with a smile.

"What can I say? Hawaii brings out the worst in me."

She rolled her eyes at that. "Not everything about Hawaii does. So go find something that doesn't."

"Point taken. Good night. And thank you." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Really."

She nodded again. "Good night."

He opened the door and went out to the car, sliding behind the wheel and starting the ignition  with no idea where he was going. He couldn't face his crappy apartment. Never was the stark contrast between his former life and his new one more in his face than when he was alone in his apartment, and all of the colorful Grace-drawn art in the world couldn't fix it if she wasn't there.

A quick check of his watch told him the liquor store near his place would still be open. Drinking himself into oblivion had a certain appeal. But the itch was back, crawling underneath his skin, and he couldn't make himself go there.  He couldn't stay in Rachel's drive, either, or she'd be out there wanting explanations, so he took off, driving the first direction he thought of. Not that it was a surprise. He'd known where he was going to end up before he admitted it to himself anyway--where else did he have left to go at this point?

He could tell from the faint light through the front windows the kitchen light was still on, and Steve never left that on if he wasn't up. Not that he wouldn't have knocked even if all the lights were out. Steve never gave a shit about waking Danny up, but he also would never give a shit about Danny waking him up, even for nothing. Danny avoided it most of the time--it smacked of liberties he wasn't quite ready to admit he had the right to, not with everything else that was tied up in that side of whatever it was they were dancing around. But he couldn't be anywhere else tonight.

One short knock and Danny could hear footsteps--damned Super SEAL hearing. Steve had probably heard the car and known who it was before Danny had even parked. Steve opened the door, looking wide awake and not surprised. "How'd it go?"

"You do not even want to know," Danny said.

"Want a beer?"

"Yes, please. So many beers."

Steve pulled the door back and Danny went inside, hearing the door close and Steve's footsteps behind him. Danny didn't stop, moving straight through the kitchen to the comforting darkness of the beach out back. He dropped into a chair and stared out at the waves dancing around in  the moonlight until a bottle appeared in front of him.

"Thanks," Danny said, taking a long drink.

"No problem." Steve sat down, leaning forward on his knees, and Danny could feel those eyes watching him. "Did you find your brother?"

A bitter laugh escaped around the lip of the beer bottle. "I found Matthew Williams," Danny said, eyes focused on the horizon. "I don't know what happened to my brother, but that guy walking around claiming to be him got on a plane and left." He took another long drink, draining the rest of the bottle and letting it fall beside the chair.

"Here."

He felt another bottle against his hand and he reached out blindly and took it. When that one was half gone, he scrubbed a hand over his face and turned to look at Steve. His face was mostly lost in the dark, his eyes and a few angles all Danny could really see. "How does that happen?" Danny asked. "How does someone change that much so fast, after all those years?"

"I don't know. People get desperate. He didn't think  he had any other options."

"He could have come to me. I would have helped him. He had so many options and the one he chooses is to help fucking drug dealers? " Danny kicked the sand at his feet, tugging a hand through his hair in frustration. "What kind of person makes that their only option?"

"I don't know, Danny."

Danny huffed. "Apparently neither do I," he said, drowning the rest of his beer. He heard a lid pop, and another one appeared at his hand. He took it, nodding thanks, but just stared down at it. "His first word was  'Dandy,'" Danny said with a slight smile. "He called both me and Dad that. Didn't know the difference between 'Danny' and 'Daddy' for months."

He picked at the label on the beer bottle, peeling little pieces off and letting them float away in the breeze. "When I was six, I went to play baseball with some kids in the park just down the street, and Mom comes running up a few minutes later, frantic, asking if I knew where Matty was. I had no idea, but he popped up out of the dugout--he didn't want me to go play without him, so he'd followed me, but then he was afraid I'd get mad, so he hid. I didn't go to the park without him for the next six months."

"Sounds like you guys were close."

"We were brothers in a house full of girls. We used to say if we didn't stick together we'd be curling our hair and putting on makeup inside of a month." He managed about half a laugh before he went back to picking at the label. "I was _always_ there for him," Danny said. "Any time there was a problem he'd come to me and we'd fix it. And he was there when I needed him," he added, thinking about the dark days in the utter wreckage of his marriage. "So I would really like," he gripped the bottle tightly, "for someone to explain to me how tonight I ended up pointing a gun on him. A gun, Steven. Pointed at my brother. Explain to me please how we go from best friends to being on opposite sides of a _gun_. How does that even happen?"

He looked at Steve, could see the sympathy for Danny's pain in his eyes, but no more understanding than Danny had for what had happened. "Sometimes there aren't any answers, Danny."

"No, there have to be answers. Something in all this has to make sense or _what_ ," Danny said, pounding his fist on his knee, "is the _point_?" He picked up one of the empty bottles beside him and hurled it at the ocean. "What is the _fucking_ point?" he yelled, but neither the ocean or Steve seemed to know.

"I think maybe he tried to fix it himself because he looked up to you," Steve said after a moment. "You're a lot to live up to, Danno."

"Yes, thank you, I am painfully aware this is my fault."

"Wait a minute, this is not your fault. How did you get that?"

Danny pushed off the chair, pacing back and forth in front of Steve. "I left. He was there for me when I needed him, and then when he needed me, where was I? Five thousand miles away."

"You came here for your daughter. Matt would be the last one to say you should've done anything different."

"Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know what he would say anymore. For all I know he might say, 'Hey, Danny, sorry, man, but you weren't exactly the best role model and you left, so what  was I supposed to do?"

"Danny--"

"And you want to know the really amusing part, Steven?" Danny said, planting his feet in the sand and facing Steve. "I was standing there holding a gun on my _brother_ , telling him he was a _criminal_ , and look at what I've done in the past six months. I've lost count of the laws I've bent and broken. And, oh, yes, let's not forget being party to the biggest _theft_ ever to take place right underneath the noses of the HPD! How did I have any right to tell him he's the criminal?"

"It's not the same thing, Danny and you know it."

Danny laughed bitterly. "How is it different, Steve? Crime is crime."

"Everything that you have done has been to save lives and put away guys who hurt people." Steve  jumped up out of the chair to face him, his voice fierce. "You think it would be better if we'd followed the law and Chin was nothing but a name on a list of police officers killed in the line? If Hesse was still out there murdering people? How would that have been the right thing to do?"

"Two wrongs don't make a right."

"That's a great sentiment, Danny, but this isn't a fable. This is life, and it's messy and you have to make choices you don't like, but at the end of the day, whatever hurts the least people is usually the right choice."

Danny barked out a harsh laugh. "I know you're used to doing things without worrying about the _law_ , but you will have to pardon the rest of us mere mortals if we occasionally struggle with putting our lifetime of morals aside and playing by your lack of rulebook. If I didn't have the occasional qualm, I'd be no better than my brother, wouldn't I?"

Steve shifted from one foot to the other, starting to speak a couple of times before finally saying, "You do what it takes to help people," he said, quiet and intense. "Your brother chose to help the people we fight against because he was embarrassed. Do _not_ tell me you don't see that difference."

He did, he really did, and that was the bitch of it. He didn't want to. He liked things black and white, and his life had been nothing but brilliant, colorful shades of gray since he'd landed on Hawaii. No, since he'd landed at 5-0. Since he'd landed Steve McGarrett.

He'd also done the most good he'd ever managed in such a short amount of time, questionable methods aside. "Okay, fine," he said, "I see the difference. I just...I don't want to turn into that," he said. "I don't want to turn into Matt."

"You won't."

"How do you know? I would've said the same about Matt this morning. Hell, I defended him at length to you, the FBI, everyone. And I've known him his whole life. You've known me six months."

"I know, and I'm telling you, you would never do what he did."

"How can you _say_ that? You _don't_ know that!"

Steve was nodding hard, as if that might convince Danny where words failed. "I do know that. You have us, you have 5-0, you have me. Most importantly, you have Grace." He stepped a little closer, his breath falling on Danny's face. "You would never do that to her. No man who would move so far to someplace he hates so much for his daughter would _ever_ do that to her."

Danny wanted to be convinced, torn between the conviction that Steve was right and the image of what Grace's face would look like if he ever let her down the way Matt had done to him. "I don't ever want to do that to her."

"You won't."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know you. And even if I didn't know that you would never, ever let yourself do that,  _I_ wouldn't let you do it." 

They stared at each other for a long moment. "Okay," Danny said, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. "Okay."

"You believe me?"

"I believe you."

Steve searched Danny's eyes, apparently finding what he wanted, as his face became far less pinched. His hand landed on Danny's shoulder. "Good."

They were so close, and Steve's breath was hot on Danny's face, his hand warm and solid on Danny's shoulder. Danny swallowed, the itch back beneath his skin again, a little different this time, more familiar and just as scary as before. "I, uh...should probably..." _Fuck it._ It wasn't like he could embarrass himself any worse tonight. His hands moved to Steve's head, dragging him down into a fierce kiss.

One long second of complete frozenness later, Steve's arms wrapped around Danny's back as he returned the kiss. It was hot and messy and a million times better than Danny had imagined--and he'd imagined it a lot. The itch under his skin turned into a velvet heat, ever so much better, and he leaned his whole body into Steve's, seeking out his warmth.

They had to break apart eventually--Steve might be able to hold his breath for minutes, but Danny was not that lucky. His hips were warm under Steve's hands, his own hands still gripping Steve's head, as their foreheads touched. Danny hadn't opened his eyes yet, was almost afraid to. He wasn't sure what he was doing, what he wanted  to do, and it was too soon, and he never should've given into this tonight of all nights.

"I think maybe," he said slowly, lifting his head, his eyes trained on the ground, "I've had more life-altering blows than I can handle for one day. I--we'll talk tomorrow, okay?"

He let go, stepped out of Steve's hold and pushed past him in a rush, not stopping until he was inside the car, keys in the ignition. "Fuck," he said to the steering wheel. "Fuck, fuck , _fuck_!" He pounded his fists on the steering wheel a few times, before leaning back in the seat, his hand over his eyes.

He shouldn't have started things. No, he should've finished what he started. It was like he had no idea who he was anymore. How did you know what to do when you didn't know who you were?

The itch was back, creeping up his neck. He tried to shake it off, but it wouldn't go away. He might not know who he was, but his body seemed to know what it wanted. Maybe that was enough for now. Maybe he should follow his instincts.

Maybe he just needed to forget his own name for a while.

Either one of those led the same place, and neither one involved the car. He yanked the keys out of the ignition, getting out and slamming the door shut, and strode back into Steve's house, through the living room and kitchen, and back out onto the beach.

Steve was still standing where Danny had left him, staring out at the ocean. He saw Steve's shoulders tense as he heard Danny approach, and Steve turned around to face him.

Danny hadn't come up with a single thing to say by the time he was standing inches away from Steve, all that heat close enough to feel, but just out of reach, taunting him. He swallowed, searched his brain, then decided words might be a tad bit overrated and just grabbed.

He wasn't sure who tore off whose clothes, or how they managed it while barely breaking their kiss, he only knew they were both naked before they hit the sand. He landed on top, staring down at Steve, his face more visible in the moonlight from this angle, looking as though he'd just been given a Ferrari and a collection of Uzis.

It was too much too soon, but it was so, so good, and Danny went back to ravishing him, letting his mouth, tongue and teeth have full rein, tasting sand and not even giving a damn because it was mixed in with the taste of Steve's skin and those _sounds_ he was making that drove Danny almost as crazy as the way Steve's hand had reached down between them and found both their cocks. He was stroking hard, his hand moving in time with both of their thrusts, and it was so good Danny thought maybe he didn't even deserve it.

Deserve it or  not, he wasn't giving it up, not now. He thrust harder, teeth sinking into Steve's neck on a groan--his or Steve's, he wasn't even sure, but it didn't matter, not anymore, because he was coming and it was better than anything he'd felt in ages. He could feel Steve beneath him, vaguely noticed him tensing and a sound that made everything even better as Danny floated off somewhere for a few minutes where this was the only thing that existed and he didn't even have to think at all.

He heard the ocean again, finally, over Steve's breath in his ear, as the roar in his head faded, leaving him on his knees, draped over Steve like a blanket. A wet, sticky, sandy blanket, he realized with a little laugh.

"I must be losing my touch if that was funny," Steve said, lips moving against Danny's ear.

"Trust me, there is absolutely nothing wrong with your touch," Danny said. "Not a thing. I promise you." Steve's laugh sent a shiver down Danny's spine, and he forced himself up to sit back on his heels. "Not that I don't appreciate the corny, yet slightly romantic cliché of sex on the beach," he said, "but maybe we should go somewhere with less sand and open air and with less possibility of satellites above us?"

Steve laughed again. "No satellites, I promise. But I do have a very nice bed upstairs," he offered, and if Danny hadn't known better, he'd have almost thought there was a touch of shyness in Steve's face.

"That sounds fabulous," Danny said, getting to his feet and reaching down to help Steve up. "Is there a shower, too?" he asked, wincing as he felt sand grind in places it had no right to be. Ever.

"A large one," Steve said, grabbing Danny's hand and pulling him into the house. "Big enough for both of us."

"Excellent," Danny said, pushing Steve up the stairs.

Steve stopped at the top, the laughter fading as he searched Danny's face.  "Are you...are you okay?"

"No." At Steve's look of alarm, Danny put a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Overall, no. Not yet. It'll take a while, and I still have to talk to Mom and Dad and there's Grace, and a whole bunch of other shit I just do not have the energy to deal with right now. But this?" He leaned in for a kiss. "This I am very okay with. This is, quite possibly, the only thing I am okay with right now."

"Okay." Steve nodded, his smile coming back. "Okay."

"Now, I believe you promised me a shower. And to get the sand out of all these places it's hiding."

"Well, if you insist," Steve said, pulling Danny into the bathroom.

"Oh, I insist, babe. I insist."

\---

End

**Author's Note:**

> Want to learn more about me and my writing? Visit my page at <http://www.jamiemeadowswrites.com/>


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